


A Desperate Act

by captainevilpants



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11862183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainevilpants/pseuds/captainevilpants
Summary: The Prank-- and why the before is always easier than the after(math)





	1. Padfoot, Prongs and Snivellus

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on The Prank
> 
> (((it's my first time writing angst???? it's more like angst lite but w/e)))
> 
> ENJOY

“Wormtail is such a useless piece of—“

“Padfoot!”

“What? Going and getting himself splinched the fucking day before the full?" Sirius cast James a look of utter disgust. He thought James looked tired, he had a drawn look about his mouth that made him look shockingly like Mrs. Potter. 

"It's not Pete's fault he's struggling with apparition," James responded patiently. "You're acting like he did this on purpose."

 "Well he bloody might as well have!" Sirius shouted. "Honestly he shouldn’t have even gone to the apparition lesson. He _knows_ we need him to get into the willow and he  _knows_ he's an absolutely gormless, useless piece of thestral dung at apparition. You know what it is? It's selfish! He's such a selfish, useless—“

“Sirius!” James interrupted again in a hushed whisper. “Padfoot, I know you’re upset, but you need to keep your voice down.”

Sirius looked up and down the empty corridor, and tried to care about something other than his irrational anger. “Sorry,” he said shortly.

“You’re not,” James said softly. “But it’s fine. You’re worried. I’m worried. You’ve always just been a bit more, er, passionate about your worry when it comes to…”

Sirius silenced James with a furiously cross look. “Don’t,” Sirius spit out, “don’t start.”

James sighed, and snaked a hand haphazardly through his hair. "You're being impossible." 

“I am not being impossible,” Sirius snapped. “And stop fluffing your hair, you look like a mad potion master in a bad wig.”

James almost chuckled. “Do you have any ideas? I mean, we could use a stick or—“

“A stick,” Sirius said faintly. “You want to go up against the bloody Whomping Willow with a fucking stick.”

“Well at least it's a suggestion and not a corridor long rant about Pete's splinched foot!” James said crossly. Sirius nodded vaguely at James, and absentmindedly sniffed the air. 

“Instead of being the world's biggest fucking drama queen, why don't you apply those 12 OWL's to the situation and do some problem solving or—”

“Shut up,” Sirius hissed, stopping James with an outstretched arm. He must have been a bit too forceful, because James let out a soft "ooff". “Shut the fuck up."

James, eyes blazing with repressed frustration, snapped his mouth shut and scanned the corridor. In that moment, Sirius was profoundly thankful for the inexplicable psychic connection that James and he sometimes shared. James glanced at Sirius, eyebrows raised. 

“Who is it?” James murmured, flattening himself up against the stone wall. “We haven’t got the cloak or the map, if it’s a teacher we’re done for…fuck. Fuck. Moony.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck Moony,” Sirius said, without thinking. "Need to...need to...just..."

Sirius strained his ear, but after a few moments of absolute, deafening silence, he gave into his base instinct and started sniffing the air. James’ smirk was nearly bigger than his face. “What d’you smell there, Snuffles?”

“Stuff it,” Sirius retorted. “Care to know who has been listening in on our conversation? Or do you want to try and use one of your ever-so-helpful powers, like eating grass or licking salt blocks.”

“Ta Pads. We both know who it is, a teacher would have popped round the corner by now, and there's only one person in the entire school that skulks so obviously.” James’ grin widened. He winked, and mouthed “Snape.”

“Bollocks,” Sirius said loudly, rolling his eyes at James. “Fine then, Snivellus either slither out of your hidey hole or go the fuck away."

"Don't," James muttered. "Don't start, please." Sirius pretended not to hear him.

Snape stepped out from behind a suit of armor, his sneer visible even in the dim, flickering light of the torches. “That’s right Black, listen to Mother Potter. Careful, or I'll have to dock you points,” he said, voice filled with wicked disdain.

“What do you want, Snape,” James sighed. “It’s not past curfew yet, you can’t take points. We’re not out of bounds, we’re not breaking any school rules. There’s no reason for you to skulk behind us like a slimy git.”

Snape’s sneer intensified for a moment, and, in an uncharacteristically bold move, he took a large step forward. Sirius drew his wand silently, and James took a small step in front of him. Leave it to James to try and sort things out peacefully, Sirius thought bitterly. 

James studied Sirius for a long moment, before giving a tiny, near imperceptible nod.

“Look,” James said, turning to face Snape. “Can we just…not do the usual bullshit this time? Let's just..leave it or whatever.”

Sirius tried to suppress the urge to snicker. James was many things; Gryffindor, Quidditch captain, Virgo, bit of a swot in Defense. But he was not particularly talented at peacemaking between sworn enemies. Snape made no response, or, in fact, any indication that he had heard James at all. “Leave it,” James repeated, his tone now ladened with a hint of warning.

Snape ignored him again. “You’re planning something,” he said shortly. His eyes flickered suspiciously between Sirius and James. “Something to do with the Whomping Willow. You know something about it. You’re the ones…you're the ones that dared Davey Gudgeon,” he finished, glaring daggers at James.

Davey Gudgeon was a fourth year Slytherin, who had nearly lost an eye to the Whomping Willow last November. When he had been carried into the hospital wing, he was muttering “Black” “bastard” and “dare” over and over again. Slughorn had tried to punish Sirius, overlooking the multiple Black students in his own house, but Dumbledore had stopped him. At the time, Dumbledore had said that Sirius, James and Peter were the last students at Hogwarts to go near the Whomping Willow, that they knew the danger it held within. And he was right…sort of.

“We had nothing to do with Gudgeon,” James said forcefully. “Sirius would never do something like that.”

“The entire school knows you're blind to Black’s true colors,” Snape drawled. “But I know what he really is.”

“And what is that,” Sirius said hotly, sidestepping James and taking several large steps until he was toe to toe with Snape. Sirius was quite a bit shorter than Snape, but his quiet composure and palpable rage was enough to make Snape stumble back.

“You,” Snape said fiercely, “are a manipulative blood traitor.”

Sirius took another step forward, and Snape was cornered between the suit of armor and the stone wall. Sirius smiled, cocking an eyebrow. “Is that all? My house elf throws harsher insults than that, and he’s bound to serve.”

Snape managed to maintain his sneer, though he was eyeing Sirius’ wand with trepidation. “Yeah? From what your brother says, you’re not just a blood traitor, you’re also a cocksucker."

"Alright, that's bloody well enough," James said loudly, but Sirius and Snape continued to ignore him. "Sirius, let's GO. No good can come of this."

"Maybe I am," Sirius said loudly, raising his wand. "Not sure I see what that has to do with the Willow, or Gudgeon, but you've never been one for logic Snivellous." 

Snape's lip curled. "That's not all Regulus said," Sirius flinched a little at his brothers name, and Snape took a tiny step forward, emboldened. "He also said you have a rather more...ah. Specific preference. I believe he said it was for subhuman beasts. You know. Centaurs, _werewolves_ and the like."

Sirius was shaking, wand clenched in his fist. "What the fuck is that supposed--" James began.

"I don’t know who’s more disgusting," Snape interrupted, eyes locked to Sirius'. "You or Lup—“

BANG. Snape shot upwards by his ankle, smacking his head hard against the wall. Sirius had his wand pointed lazily in the air, holding Snape in place. His face, usually so handsome and expressive, was settled in an icy indifference. Only his eyes betrayed his true feelings— the usual steely grey was distorted with a layer of haze, and locked, unfocused, on a stone near Snape’s left ear.

“Sirius,” James said quietly, gesturing to place his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. James had barely touched Sirius before he was forced to draw his hand away hastily. He looked down at his palm; it was red and shiny, freshly burnt.

“Sirius,” James repeated. “Please.”

Silence filled the corridor for a few painful moments. Sirius felt his eyes start to refocus, and as the dull grey stone blurred back into focus, so did his mind. “You know what, Snivellus,” Sirius bit out finally, “it was me who told Gudgeon to fuck with the willow.”

“Sirius!”

“No, James. He deserves to know. Our great master plan to rid the world of all Slytherin’s by using a fucking tree. You’ve figured us out! The great slime ball has finally sorted out our priorities. Pranking is childish and beneath us. Clearly, it’s all part of a grand scheme to murder hundreds of innocent children. No, wait,” Sirius tapped his forefinger to his chin, feigning deep thought. “That’s your leader, isn’t it? What’s his name again? Deathstorm? Death Bearer? Noseless Wonder?”

Sirius was giggling, eyes a bit mad and shaking uncontrollably. James moved to reach out to him again, but seemed to think better of it. Sirius took a few small, controlled steps forward, so that he was looking Snape right in his inky black, soulless eyes. “You know what we were really trying to do? Get Gudgeon inside the willow. That’s right,” Snape’s eyes widened and Sirius smiled wickedly. “All you’ve got to do is touch the knot at th—“

“ENOUGH” roared James, but Sirius was already backing away, eyes glazed, mouth slightly open. He sunk to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, trying to make himself as small as he felt. Snape was released with a crack, and slid face first towards the stone floor. He hit the top of his head, hard, and was knocked unconscious.

James rushed forward, checking Snape's pulse and opening one eyelid. Snape lay, completely motionless, neck at a wonky angle, a small trickle of blood escaping from his left temple. James closed his eyes and puffed out a sigh of relief when he felt the faint flicker of a pulse in Snape's wrist. “Sirius,” James said quietly. “Sirius, we have to take him to the hospital wing.”

James turned to look at Sirius, and tried to catch his eye. Sirius sat, almost as motionless as Snape, eyes open, staring blankly ahead. James stood up and moved slowly towards his friend, eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern.

James knelt down next to Sirius, placing his burnt hand on his shoulder. “Sirius,” James repeated, more loudly. He gave Sirius a little shake. “Padfoot, please.”

Sirius could hear James. He could feel his hand on his shoulder. He knew where he was. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He felt like he couldn’t even exist.

“Padfoot, I need to take him to the hospital wing,” James said desperately. He drew his wand and pointed it at Snape, whose body was lifted eerily into the air.

“I’ll come back and get you,” James said. Sirius tried to make a sound, to move a limb. James looked down at him sadly, before turning and walking Snape’s unconscious form down the corridor.

 

Snape’s temple was bleeding steadily now, staining a trail of fat, crimson blood drops along the stone floor. “What have you done, Sirius,” James murmured to himself. “What have you done.”

When James returned for Sirius nearly an hour later, the corridor was empty. James was surprised. Not that Sirius had gone, but that a tiny part of him was glad he had.


	2. Prong's Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus wakes up

Remus woke up in the hospital wing the afternoon after the full moon, aching with an intensity he had never experienced before. When he could finally summon the energy to open his eyes, the first thing he saw was James’ face. It took Remus a moment to process that the person seated next to his bed was, in fact, James, for a number of subtle reasons, and one rather (obvious) confusing one. 

James’ hazel eyes were rimmed with a tinge of pink, and his hair, normally fluffed into an unmanageable tousle, looked like it had been punctured and deflated. His lips were pressed together firmly into an awkward, uncharacteristic frown, and his dark skin was pallid, like he was recovering from the flu. None of this made any sense, but the bit that made the least amount of sense to poor, exhausted Remus, was that James was shirtless. Shirtless, with one shoulder wrapped in large, snowy white gauze. 

“N'ked?” Remus mumbled, somewhat incoherently. James startled, but upon realizing the garbled sound had come from Remus, leaned forward, and took Remus’ hand in his own. James was studying his face with what Remus felt was an unnecessary level of scrutiny. The tiny part of Remus that was still semi-functioning knew, overprotective and overbearing as James could be, he only expressed this level of attentive concern when a situation demanded it. His brain sluggishly processed James’ concern and sorted it into two possibilities: something bad had happened, or something really bad had happened. 

“It’s good to see your eyes open Moony,” James said. 

Remus felt this was a tad much all things considering, but Prongs did always have a bit of a flare for drama. Remus managed a very eloquent, “W’ha’pnd?” He trusted James’ semi-telepathic abilities to translate his garbled nonsense. “Pete?” 

“No, no, Pete’s fine,” James reassured him. “He’s a few beds down, Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep him an extra night because he keeps chucking up the blood replenishing potion. He missed the moon entirely.”

“Ggnnff,” Remus mumbled. Expressing yourself exclusively with consonants was difficult work, but James nodded and smiled at him, apparently understanding his mostly unspoken sentiment. Which was good, because Remus honestly wasn’t sure which sentiment he was meant to be expressing in that particular moment. “S’r’s?”

It was at this point in the conversation that James began having trouble maintaining eye contact. Again, the tiny, functioning piece of Remus’ mind knew that this only happened when James was deeply distressed, typically when in the presence of Lily Evans or before an important quidditch. “S’s?” Remus repeated, helpfully. 

James sighed deeply, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He proceeded to regale the entire, unfortunate story to the water jug on Remus’ bedside table. The altercation between Sirius and Snape, James attempting to take Snape to the hospital wing. Snape regaining consciousness halfway to the hospital wing, cursing James with something that split his shoulder open, from the base of his clavicle to the point of his hip. James, bleeding profusely, sprinting after Snape all the way to the willow. Snape freezing the knot and scampering into the passageway. Remus, transformed, angry and confused to find he was abandoned by his pack, breaking down the door, dislocating his shoulder, and managing his way halfway through the passageway. Remus discovering Snape at the other end of the passageway, and charging. James yanking Snape back up with his bad arm, saving his life and permanently ending his quidditch career by tearing his shoulder tendon so severely, not even Poppy Pomfrey had a chance in healing it. 

By the end of the story, Remus had regained most of the feeling in his face, and some of the feeling in his hands. He gripped James’ fist firmly in his own, wishing he could raise an arm to wipe away the tears that were streaming earnestly down his best friends face. “James,” Remus said softly, when James had run out of story and was reduced to incoherent babbling. 

James looked up at Remus, and in that moment, Remus knew the answer to the question he had to ask. The question he knew he shouldn’t ask, the question he knew he shouldn’t care about the answer to. He asked it anyway.

“James,” Remus repeated, “James where’s Sirius?”

“Remus I—“

“Prongs,” Remus pleaded, “please.”

So James did the worst possible thing he would ever do. He told Remus the truth.

No one had seen or heard from Sirius in over a week.


	3. The Prodigal Padfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius returns

Sirius trudged up the stairs to the Headmaster’s office. He had spent the last week in an abandoned cave near Hogsmead, as Padfoot, begging for scraps and generally acting like the kicked puppy he knew he was deep down. He had returned just this morning, upon realizing that imposing as an animal for the rest of his life was probably not the best life plan. He had done the only thing he could think of, ignored his need to shower and eat, and gone straight to Professor Dumbledore. Lost in thought, Sirius was surprised to find he had climbed the entire spiral staircase and was now face to face with Dumbledore’s office door. He raised a fist to knock, but was interrupted by a voice.

“Come in Sirius.”

Sirius wasn’t even a little bit surprised. He had given up trying to figure out how Dumbledore seemed to know everything. Sirius was pretty sure he could see through James’ invisibility cloak, which was near infallible, so it wasn’t particularly shocking to believe he could see through his own office door. Sirius swallowed what little pride he had left, and opened the door.

“Sit, please,” Dumbledore said, gesturing to a chair Sirius was all too familiar with. Sirius sat, eyes fixed on his scuffed trainers, as Dumbledore studied him over his half-moon spectacles. Sirius chanced a quick peak at the Headmaster’s face, to gauge exactly how much trouble he was in. He was startled to see Dumbledore looking at him, not with anger, concern or even scrutiny, but mild curiosity. His lips were quirked into an almost smile, and his blue eyes were filled with their usual annoying twinkle. Sirius was completely taken aback by Dumbledore’s apparent lack of reaction or emotion, and stared back dumbly, not sure how to start groveling. 

Dumbledore raised his tented hands, and rested them lightly underneath his bearded chin. “Sirius, is there anything you wish to tell me?” he asked, rather plainly.

Sirius’ mouth dropped open a bit. There had been a time, around his eighth birthday, that he had run away from home. He had managed a few days on his own before he had to return to Grimmauld Place, tired, dirty and hungry. His father had smacked him once, hard across the mouth, before telling his mother she could do with him what she saw fit. Walburga Black was many things, but forgiving was not in her nature, and Sirius had suffered, to say the least. 

In fact, throughout his entire childhood, his parents had always reacted to his antics according to their base instincts. His father would react at once, expelling his fury silently and forcefully. His mother was less controlled, and her anger was infamous and long-lasting. Even now, with the Potter’s, they showed concerned for Sirius’ hardship, offering love, sympathy and tea. Those were the reactions he was used to, those were the reactions he knew how to respond to— unbridled anger and soft affection. He didn’t know what to do with Dumbledore’s simple question.

So, he found himself telling Dumbledore everything. He figured if he was to be expelled, he might as well do it properly. Sirius told him about Snape, about the cruel things Snape said, and how they had made him feel. Sirius told him about how he had gone cold, unable to move for nearly a quarter hour after the incident. Sirius told him about running, fast and hard, and hiding in a cave in Hogsmeade. Sirius talked and talked for the better part of an hour, and Dumbledore listened. 

“That’s…er about it sir,” Sirius said doubtfully. Dumbledore had barely moved throughout the duration of Sirius’ story, but now he slowly lowered his hands from his chin to rest them gently on his desk. 

“Thank you Sirius,” Dumbledore said. “As I am sure you may have realized by now, Mr. Lupin has made a full recovery. Needless to say this was a particularly difficult month for him, but Madam Pomfrey assures me that he is in good health. His mental wellbeing, however,” Dumbledore trailed off, studying Sirius thoughtfully. Sirius blushed, bowing his head in shame. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony Remus had experienced. 

“Mr. Snape, similarly, is perfectly fine. Mr. Pettigrew, as I’m sure you’ll remember, has had his foot reattached and is nearly fully recovered.” Dumbledore’s light blue eyes bore into Sirius. Sirius thought he knew why.

“James?”

“Mr. Potter is recovering,” Dumbledore replied. “The curse Mr. Snape used is experimental, and the strain Mr. Potter exerted exacerbated both the wound and the dark magic. His arm is healed, and he has a large range of mobility. However, it is a lasting injury. Mr. Potter will live with the damage and restrictions for the rest of his life.”

Sirius stared blankly at the wall. “But he’s captain.” 

“Mr. Potter will continue his captain duties, and has been invited back next year. It will be a managerial position. Madam Pomfrey and Madam Hooch agree that given the severity of the injury, Mr. Potter would be ill advised to continue playing himself.”

Sirius felt as though he had been slapped. James would never play quidditch again, because of him. “It’s all my fault,” he said softly, angrily wiping back fat, wet tears. 

“My dear boy, I think we can all agree that the the responsibility of this unfortunate situation is not solely yours,” Dumbledore said firmly. 

Sirius’ head snapped up. “S-sir?”

“Mr. Snape used a curse without knowing the full consequence of it’s force,” Dumbledore said, with maddening simplicity. “You acted on impulse. A quality I know you resist. But Mr. Snape acted with intention. While neither of you is completely innocent in this situation, I do not believe either of you is entirely at fault.” 

“But…but I could have killed James! I knew…” Sirius broke for just a moment, letting out a pitiful sob. “I knew as soon as I’d said it, I knew…Remus means more to me than any other person. And I threw that away because I was angry. Because I wanted Snape to hurt as badly as I hurt.” 

“Sirius—“

“NO!” Sirius roared, the force of his emotion bringing him to his feet. “NO! YOU’RE ALL WORDS, AREN’T YOU OLD MAN? ALL WORDS, AND SUBTLY AND EMOTIONLESS BULLSHIT!” 

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Sirius stared at him, fists clenched, tears streaming down his face, chest heaving with straggled breaths. Sirius hated him. He hated the false calm of those pale blue eyes, he hated the unreadable facial expressions and manipulatively neutral words.

“I knew I lost Remus the moment I opened my fat mouth, and I couldn’t live with myself anymore. So I ran, as fast and as far as I could, and I didn’t even think. I didn’t even think about what that would do to James.” 

“I came back, because I thought you could help me. But I guess I’m just past the point of being helped, aren’t I? That’s why you’re not angry with me. You have to care about someone, to be angry with them.”

Dumbledore studied him, waiting patiently to make sure he was good and truly done. “Sirius,” Dumbledore said. “Have you ever wondered why I call you Sirius?”

“Because it’s my fucking name?” Sirius bit out, still shaking a bit.

“Well, yes,” Dumbledore replied, “I call all my students by their names. But in the course of our, er, conversation, I have named a number of students. Mr. Pettigrew. Mr. Potter. Mr. Lupin. Mr. Snape. Sirius.”

Sirius stared. “What?”

“When you were about 8 years old, your parents invited me over for dinner. Your brother was nearly six, and hadn’t shown any signs of magic. Your parents wanted me to observe him for an evening, to see what could be done. Their words, not mine. Do you remember?” Dumbledore asked. Sirius nodded. 

“That was the first time we met. You came up to me, held out your hand. You said ‘Hello sir, my name is Sirius.’ I said it is nice to meet you, Mr. Black—“

“And I asked you not to call me Mr. Black. You asked me why, and I said. I said that I didn’t like that part of my name. Because I thought it made me like. Like her. Like him. Like them,” Sirius mumbled. “I ran away that night.”

Dumbledore nodded. Of course he knew. “And while I generally prefer the formality of addressing my students by their surname, rather than imposing the familiarity of their given name, I have always made an exception with you,” Dumbledore said kindly, smiling a bit. “I do this as a sign of respect, and as an unspoken agreement. You are not, I believe, so much like the Black family. For the better, if I’m not too bold in saying.”

Sirius was, understandably, shocked. Never in all his life could he imagine anyone saying such a thing to him. Being a Black was an honor, a privilege, something that should be revered to the point of worship. “Sir?” he asked, in a voice barely above a whisper.

“I hope,” Dumbledore continued, “that I have not been mistaken all these years, Sirius. I can, of course, refer to you by your surname if you would prefer. But I had always been under the impression you rather preferred being Sirius, instead of Black.”

This time, the tears that fell down Sirius’ face were not tears of anger, but tears of happiness. The fact that someone, anyone, saw him as an entity separate and distinct from the Black family sent a wave of relief coursing through his entire body. 

“This I believe, is a sentiment that Mr. Lupin and Mr. Potter share with me,” Dumbledore said. “I do believe that they understand your actions were out of emotional distress and not malice. Though I am sure they do not, er appreciate the consequences of those actions.”

A slightly hysterical giggle burst forth from Sirius. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah that’s fair.”

Dumbledore smiled at him. “I have spoken with Mr. Snape and he has been advised against approaching you, Mr. Potter or Mr. Lupin,” he said. “And now I shall advise you, Sirius. Seek out your friends. There are difficult times ahead, and I am certain you are all going to need each other.”

“Thank you sir,” Sirius said. He realized he was still standing, and turned to make his way to the door.

“Sirius one more thing,” Dumbledore said. Sirius turned to face him. “As I advised Mr. Snape, I advise you. Do not approach him again, either at Hogwarts or outside it’s walls. To be frank, you bring out the worst in one another, and I think we need not subject the world to that havoc again.” 

Dumbledore stared at Sirius for a long moment. The familiar twinkle was gone from his eye, but he was smiling. Sirius nodded at him, and Dumbledore stood, extending his hand towards the door. “You are dismissed.”


	4. Kiss and Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius finally talks to Remus and "smut" happens, aka I don't know why I thought I would be able to write smut. So *something* definitely happens, but it could probably be broadcast on cable tv. Whoops lol.

Sirius walked through the castle, trusting his muscle memory to carry him to Gryffindor Tower. His head was reeling with a thousand different thoughts, but the one that kept resurfacing, the one that was louder than all the rest, was very simple. James or Remus? 

He didn’t have a ton of time to mull this over, as the question was answered for him by chance. He rounded a corner a little too closely, eyes cast downward, and smacked face first into a taller figure. 

“Sorry there mate, mind’s a bit—“

“Sirius.”

Sirius looked up slowly. Grey eyes met hazel for the first time in nearly a week. James was looking at him with intense sadness. His arm was crooked up against his belly, and wrapped protectively in a sling. 

“James.”

Both boys stepped forward in perfect unison. Sirius grabbed James hard around the middle, trying to be mindful of his injured arm. James gripped him back just as tightly with his good arm, his head bowed to rest on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius felt the collar of his shirt grow wet and James let out a tiny sob. 

“Jamie,” Sirius murmured softly, stroking up and down James’ back with one hand, gripping the material of his t-shirt firmly in the other. “Jamie I am so, so sorry,” he choked out. “I love you. I’m sorry, there’s no excuse, I’m sorry, I’m—“

“I know Si, I know.” James gave Sirius a final squeeze before taking a step back. He kept his good hand on Sirius’ shoulder and studied his face carefully. “Look mate, officially, I am still royally and rightly pissed with you,” Sirius flinched, but had expected at least this much. “But I can wait.”

“Are you su—“

“Yes,” James interrupted firmly. He shook his head sadly, shaggy hair bouncing madly in every direction.

“I am a far greater, nobler man than you Padfoot,” James grinned, and Sirius knew he was trying create some sense of normalcy between them. “And I selflessly relinquish you from needing to continue this inevitably horrible conversation. Go. You need to find him. Please, for all our sakes.”

“H-how is he?” Sirius asked cautiously. James’ face fell slightly, into a somber grimace. 

“No,” James said. “No. You need to go talk to him yourself. It’s time you two…it’s just. It’s time you sorted things.”

Sirius nodded, and patted James awkwardly on the arm. Sirius gave James an apraising look up and down. “You’re right you now,” he said.

“I always am,” James said sagely, albeit confused. “‘bout what this time?”

“You are a far better man than I could ever be,” Sirius said softly, before turning abruptly on his heel and marching towards the tower.

He heard a muffled “damn straight” from behind him, and allowed himself a small giggle.

—

Sirius’ march became less and less confident the closer he came to Gryffindor Tower. What if Peter was there? What if Kingsley was there? What if Remus wasn’t there? What does he say? The apology, the forgiveness, it was easy with James. There was some long unspoken agreement between them— Sirius fucked up, James fixed it, and if and when James ever fucked up, Sirius would, well maybe not fix it, but he’d at least punch someone or something. James understood— Sirius was a good person who sometimes did bad things. Remus though. Remus thought he was a bad person, because he did bad things. Which was ridiculous. Remus didn’t have a bad bone in his body. But he blamed himself for all the things he couldn't prevent. And so far, nothing Sirius had ever done, at least in Remus’ eyes, was as bad as being a werewolf. 

Sirius had reached the top of Gryffindor Tower. Weird, he thought to himself, he didn't even remember giving the password. He eyed the small placard on the door that said “Sixth Years” and hesitated. He knew, or at least he thought he knew, what he needed to do. He was going to tell the truth, the whole truth, for once in his miserable life. And if Remus wanted him gone, well. Cross that bridge and all that rot. He opened the door. 

Remus was laying on his bed, reading. He tensed up slightly, and stopped turning the page, but he didn’t look up. If this were a normal night, Remus would pretend to not know it was Sirius, and Sirius would try to sneak up onto the bed. He never actually could sneak up on Remus, because Remus had stupid werewolf senses and Sirius was a terrible sneak. Sirius practically ached for what this night could have been had he not been such an arsehole. He longed for the lost, mundane normalcy of trying to surprise an unsuspecting werewolf

Remus kept awkwardly still, so Sirius allowed himself an extra moment to appreciate how truly, unbelievably beautiful Remus was. His slightly large nose with a light smattering of freckles. His full lips, always a little chapped. His bright, amber eyes illuminated by the torch light. His golden curls, less rowdy and unmanageable than James’ hair, and softer than Sirius’. He was, at least to Sirius, perfect. 

As Sirius began to approach Remus, he wondered if this would be the last time he would ever have the chance to look at him properly. He hated that idea, and tried to banish it away to the far reaches of his mind. 

He had reached the foot of Remus’ bed. He focused on his opening remarks; they very complicated and he didn’t want to mess it up. 

“R-remus?” he said softly.

Sirius was expecting something, perhaps not exactly like, but at least akin to what happened with James. He was not expecting Remus to close his book gently, and place it on the bedside table. He was not expecting Remus to climb off his bed, and stand, tall, imposing and gorgeous. He was definitely not expecting Remus to look him, dead in the eyes, with the neutral expression one might have while doing the shopping or folding laundry. 

“Hello Sirius,” Remus said.

“Remus— I’m back,” Sirius said faintly, completely thrown by Remus’ ridiculous composure. 

“Yes,” Remus said slowly, as though talking to a particularly slow first year, “I see that. Can you move, please? I was just on my way out.”

“No,” Sirius said. Remus arched an eyebrow dangerously. 

“No,” he repeated. “You’re not on your way out,” Sirius explained helpfully. “You never stop in the middle of the chapter.”

Both of Remus eyebrows shot straight up, disappearing into his curly fringe. “You’ve been gone for some time,” he said, voice low. “Perhaps I’ve changed.”

Sirius scoffed, which, alright, was definitely not the best idea. But the thought of Remus “I’ve only got ten more pages in this chapter, can’t you find someone else to put the fire out” Lupin, ever, under any circumstances, leaving in the middle of a chapter was practically unspeakable and functionally ridiculous. Remus took a forceful step forward, and his face had fallen back into the maddening neutral expression of a person who Simply Does Not Care.

“Let me by, Sirius,” he repeated. He seemed determined not to actually touch Sirius, which was odd. Remus was far from the most affectionate person, but the forced, exact space he kept between them felt intentional and artificial. 

“No,” Sirius said stubbornly, crossing his arms. The (very) small rational part of his brain was screaming at him. What are you doing? You are fucking up! Apologize, you great idiot! 

“No.” Remus repeated, for what felt like the millionth time. He kept the sliver of space between them, but was bent over slightly, invading Sirius’ space in every way he could without actually touching him.

“We…we need to talk,” Sirius stammered. 

“We need to talk,” Remus repeated, face still stony, but eyes that looked like they could shoot out laser beams if he had half a mind to try.

“Stop repeating everything I’m saying!” Sirius shouted. Shouted. He was shouting now. At the boy he was in love with. Who had wronged. Badly. 

“I’m sorry if you were expecting a different homecoming than this,” Remus said slowly. “But—“

“No. Stop. Shut up.” Sirius shouted (again). Remus withdrew, face faltering momentarily into a confused, angry frown. Apparently he was as confused by Sirius’ erratic behavior as Sirius was himself. Sirius ignored him, his mind racing. What was it he had thought? Back, ages ago in Dumbledore’s office. Oh— you have to care about someone to be angry at them.

“You’re not, you’re not angry?” Sirius asked, looking up into Remus’ eyes questioningly. 

Remus’ eyes flickered and his nostrils flared, just a small moment of intense, unadulterated rage. But it was enough. Sirius didn’t know a lot about other people’s emotions, but he knew everything about Remus’. Flared nostrils meant “you spilled spoiled potion on my first edition Austen my great aunt gave me” levels of rage. Remus’ silence gave Sirius another clue— Remus was the worst liar in the universe, next to James, and he couldn’t answer the question without actually, unintentionally, answering the question. So Remus was not only furious, but he also didn’t want Sirius to know that he was furious. 

“I know you’re angry,” Sirius said. It earned him a slight eye roll from Remus— a small victory towards..well, towards an enormous fight that would end there friendship, probably. But maybe not. And Sirius was clinging to that maybe with everything he had. 

“I know you’re angry,” Sirius repeated. “I want to—“

Remus let out a huff of frustration, and tried to push Sirius out of the way. Sirius, in a moment of panic, made a desperate grab for Remus. The moment his hand closed around Remus’ wrist, Remus was struck still, as though he had been petrified. Remus turned to look at Sirius’ hand, before slowly raising his gaze to Sirius’ face. 

“You know I’m angry,” Remus bit out, letting a small modicum of his carefully controlled anger free. “You know I’m angry and what, Sirius? You’re going to apologize? You’re going to go back in time and make it all better? You’re…” But he trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s not worth it,” he finished sadly, “it’s just…not.”

Sirius’ eyes stung. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he realized his grip on Remus was probably painfully tight, but he couldn’t let go. “What…d'you mean?”

“I should never have come,” Remus said, his voice shaking. “To Hogwarts. Or, I shouldn’t have let myself believe I could do this. Be normal. Have friends. Have…anything.”

“No,” Sirius said softly. “NO. You’re wrong. No, Remus please. I, I know it’s not an excuse. But Snape he, he was saying all these things about—“

“About you being a werewolf-loving cocksucker, yeah. James mentioned,” Remus said bitterly. “I know that must have been so…upsetting to you. Having anyone think that the Great Sirius Black could be gay, or that he could love someone…someone like me.”

“You think that’s what this is about? My ego?” Sirius stammered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Isn’t everything?” Remus retorted. “You could never live in a world where people thought…where people thought…”

“What, that I’m gay?” Sirius said loudly, cutting Remus off. “I am.”

“You…” 

“I am. Gay, that is.” Sirius stared hard into Remus’ eyes, which were flickering between contrasting emotions at light speed. Anger, frustration, sadness, self-loathing. But there was something else too, something softer. 

Remus took a full thirty seconds to compose himself before responding. “So what,” he said finally. “Fine, you’re gay. But you’d still rather have me kill someone than have them think...that you...that we.” Remus looked away from Sirius, shaking a bit. 

“Remus, no, that’s not, that hasn’t ever been…” Sirius trailed off, looking around desperately and completely missing Remus' moment of complete understanding. 

But before Sirius could decide what to say or do, Remus had flipped the hand Sirius had been holding to grab him forcefully by the arm. With his other hand, he grabbed Sirius’ hip and flipped their positions, forcing Sirius backwards until his back hit the stone wall. 

“What—“ Sirius started to say, but he couldn’t think. All he could think about was that Remus was touching him.

Remus kept the careful distance between himself and Sirius, except for the hand on his hip and upper arm. The tiny, rational part of Sirius' brain informed him that this was probably not the way you touched your platonic best friend that had just betrayed you. That tiny, rational part of his brain really doesn’t get enough credit, Sirius thought absently, struggling to form any coherent or relevant thought.

Remus released his hold on Sirius, looking horrified. “I— I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have,” he said awkwardly. He looked down at Sirius, apologetic, confused.

Sirius pushed off the wall slightly, bumping his chest against Remus’. Remus quickly moved away from the contact, but Sirius grabbed his wrist again. “Stop trying to get away,” he said softly. “Do you really hate me that much?” 

Remus closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the stone wall over Sirius’ shoulder, all while maintaining that excruciating distance between them. His breathing was uneven, his eyes closed. The tiny, rational part of Sirius’ brain poked at him again, reminding him that this was probably not the most platonic way to go about a conversation. But right now, feeling Remus’ body heat radiating through his jumper, feeling the end of his curls tickling his neck, Sirius felt so content and safe despite the situation. It didn't help that Remus always smelled so nice, not aggressively manly like so many of the other boys at school, but a soft, warm smell. Closing his eyes, Sirius did the stupidest thing you could possibly do while in the personal space of another person. He took a deep, unfortunately audible, breath in. 

Remus stilled and Sirius cursed his own stupidity. But then, Remus sighed deeply, and turned his head so he was whispering directly into Sirius’ ear. 

“Pads,” he murmured. “Not like this. It can’t be like this.”

Sirius hesitated. That, arguably, did not make much sense. Unless. Unless it meant what he thought it meant?

“Remus,” Sirius said, and was a little embarrassed at how breathy and desperate he sounded. “Moony. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Remus replied softly. “I know Pads.”

“Will you forgive me?” Sirius asked.

He felt Remus nodding somewhere near his head, his curls tickling Sirius’ neck. Sirius couldn’t help but smile, just a bit. Sirius summoned all his courage, unconsciously lifting himself up onto his tiptoes and rested his cheek against Remus’ shoulder. Remus hesitated for a moment, before wrapping a tentative arm around Sirius’ waist. This tiny gesture felt like the greatest victory Sirius could have hoped for, but he made no move to reciprocate, afraid of scaring Remus away again. And he still needed to ask. He needed to know.

“What do you mean…not like this?”

Remus stilled again and Sirius was positive he was about to pull away again. An excruciating moment passed where if felt like neither of them knew what was going to happen. But then Sirius felt a hand come up to cup his cheek, felt his head being turned gently so he and Remus were eye to eye. A curious tingle shot pleasantly up Sirius’ back, and he felt his eyes start to close.

“Moony…please.”

Remus smiled, a perfect, happy smile, and leaned forward to gently brush his lips to Sirius’.


	5. Meanwhile, In a Corridor Far, Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Remus and Sirius...er, bang it out (aka kiss gently), James is busy walking face first into stationary objects and becoming the most pathetic damsel in distress you ever did see. Fortunately for him and his nose, but perhaps not his dignity, Lily Evans happens to be walking by.

“Damn straight,” James mumbled to himself, and he turned to continue down the corridor. He almost felt like smiling, but was still absent-mindedly thinking about Remus and Sirius. Stop, he scolded himself mentally, I swear to Merlin’s bollocks I think more about their relationship than they do. 

But he couldn’t help it, could he? It had always been the four of them, Prongs, Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail. The Marauders. There had always been a balance between all their interconnected friendships— even though he knew what the rest of the school, and even the professors thought about them. James and Sirius were the ringleaders, the masterminds, and Remus and Pete were just along for the ride. 

James hated that image of himself, but more importantly, he hated that image of his friends. Pete was smart as hell, and people were usually too distracted by his mousey exterior and quiet nature to notice. Remus was devilishly clever, and frankly the least responsible person he had ever met, in terms of his own self-care. And maybe Sirius was as brash and bold as everyone thought, but how could anyone think he was unfeeling or uncaring? 

James sighed, rounding the corner. He had always been a little jealous of Sirius and Remus’ relationship, if he was being totally honest with himself. The kind of unconditional, brotherly love he shared with each of them was, at least to James, practically sacred. But what they had with each other was something entirely different. Maybe not better, but definitely unique. 

Suddenly, James noticed he was about to walk into the statue of a one eyed witch. Unfortunately, his brain registered this fact about five seconds too late. 

SMACK. His face hit the witch’s rather vulumptious bosom; he heard a crunch and felt an intense shock of pain shoot through his nose. Stumbling backwards and clutching his bleeding face, he braced himself for the inevitable fall. But it never came. Instead, a small hand reached out to steady him, and James managed to right himself awkwardly, his one good hand still clamped tightly around his injury.

“Jesus Christ.” 

James groaned, recognizing the voice instantly. He arranged his face in what he thought might be a nonchalant sort of smirk, but was really a painful, bloody grimace. He turned to face Lily.

“‘lo Evans,” he said. “Thanks for the save, you've quick reflexes.”

But Lily wasn’t paying attention to him. As soon as he had turned, she was studying his face closely. She reached up to try to gently pry his hand away from his nose. “Don’t,” James said, too focused on not squirting nose blood all over her that he barely had a moment to process that she was actually, voluntarily touching him. Lily was undeterred, and reached for his hand a second time.

“Don’t,” he repeated, “it’s bleeding.”

Lily almost managed not to roll her eyes at him. “Yes,” she replied. “Very good, I can see that. Now were you planning on doing something about it, or were you planning on keeping it this way?”

James continued to clutch possessively at his nose, which was still haphazardly squirting out blood. He was starting to feel a little light-headed, and wondered what Lily would do if he fainted. 

“Er,” he said. “I’m feeling a bit light headed actually. Would it be alright if I just…” 

He wobbled over the wall and slumped against it, sliding down slowly until he felt the floor smack his bottom. Lily approached a third time, crouching down in front of him. James was pretty sure he was delirious from the blood loss, because Lily’s eyes were filled with concern. Presumably, for him. 

“James?” she said, resting a hand on his good shoulder. “James look, I can fix your nose, it’s a pretty easy spell. But I have to see it first. Let me see, please.”

“’s bleeding,” James said again, peering up at her curiously. “Hurts.”

“Yes, we’ve established that it’s bleeding,” Lily said impatiently, drawing her wand. “I can make that stop, but you need to move your damn hand Potter.”

James nodded, finally understanding. He unclenched the hand around his nose, and a large glob of blood plopped wetly onto his shirt. “Yikes,” he mumbled. 

Lily smiled. Not in a “Potter was mauled by the marble bosom of an inanimate object” way, but in a way that made James feel…sort of tingly. And not because of the blood loss. She was still smiling when she raised her wand and pointed it at James’ face. “This is gonna hurt a little. On the count of three. One, two, episky!” Lily exclaimed. 

James felt a sharp, curiously warm feeling shoot through his nose. The pain in his nose dulled, and he felt slightly steadier in the head. Lily was observing him anxiously, clearly waiting to see if her spell had worked, and he was healed, or if she had accidentally severed his nose. “Oi!” he exclaimed, good hand flying up to his face. “You lied to me!”

Lily pulled his hands away, examining his nose closely. She smirked and said “dunno what you’re talking about.” Apparently satisfied, she shifted to sit next to James against the wall. 

James massaged his nose gingerly, but he continued to gape at Lily with mock indignation. “You said on the count of three! That wasn’t three, that was two!”

Lily chuckled, and flicked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “But it’s healed, isn’t it? D'you think you can manage back to the Tower, or are you still feeling woozy?” she asked.

James considered for a moment. He felt alright, like he could definitely manage his way back to the Tower. But he was suppose to be covering Remus’ rounds for him, something he did the days (or in this case, weeks) after a particularly bad full. “Well,” he said. “I feel alright, but I think I’m going to wait a few minutes. Just to be cautious.”

“Cautious,” Lily repeated, doubtfully.

“It’s been known to happen on the rare occasion,” James said airily. “Just like Lily Evans pulling the occasional prank.”

“When, in the six years we’ve been at school together, have I ever pranked anyone?” 

“Just a few minutes ago, you pranked me.”

“What?” Lily exclaimed, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “I did not! I healed you, you idiot. How is that a prank?”

James grinned at her, surprised to find he rather liked Lily’s teasing indignation. “You did too. You told me you would heal me on the count of three, and you surprised me. Surprising someone is like, the basic rule of pranking.”

“Well, you are, unfortunately, the authority,” she said. James blushed, and prayed Lily couldn’t tell in the dim torchlight. “It’s a trick my mum taught me when I was little, to make taking plasters off less scary.” 

“What’s a plaster.” 

Lily scoffed. “What’s a plaster. You’re useless, you are.”

“Are not. What’s a plaster and why are they scary?” James asked again, curious. 

Lily looked at him for a long moment, which was embarrassing, partially because he was still blushing, but mostly because his face was still covered in dried up blood. “You know what,” she said finally. “Nah. I’m not gonna tell. You’ll have to sort it out by yourself. And no asking Remus, that’s cheating.”

James smiled at her, confused and pleased at their conversation. He and Lily had mostly ignored each other after the particularly unfortunate event in their fifth year, in which James had been a bit of a tosser and Snape had called Lily something unforgivable. And while James still nurtured a bit of a crush, he had made an effort to tone it down the past year. He hadn’t exactly ignored her, he didn’t think that was physically possible for him to do. But he had gone out with a few other girls in their year, and generally tried to not make such an unbelievable arse out of himself. He had always assumed that she was still angry with him, or at least indifferent, but her behavior contradicted that. 

“Fair enough Evans,” he said, still smiling. “Why are you out and about this time of night anyway?”

“Same as you,” Lily replied, tapping the toes of her trainers together. 

James raised an eyebrow. No one knew that he occasionally filled in for Remus’ prefect duties, except for Peter and Sirius. “I…sort of doubt that?” he said questioningly. 

Lily chuckled and rolled her eyes. “You lot are not half as subtle as you think you are. And I know you didn’t pin that on yourself, not with that arm.” She reached over and flicked the shiny Prefect badge that Remus had pinned onto his sling. His mind launched into overdrive as he tried to think of an excuse, of literally anything that would be even a little bit believable. 

“Relax,” she said softly. “Remus and I are friends, you know.” James nodded. This was true. But he wasn’t willing to accidentally divulge any information about Remus, even to Lily.

“I figured it out in first year,” she continued. “And then last year, when we were made Prefects, he was so worried about missing rounds or meetings. I filled in for him, for the most part. But then last February, remember, he broke his leg and my mum—“ she trailed off, eyes filling with tears. 

James placed his good hand over Lily’s. This last February had been a particularly bad moon, and Remus was bedridden for a week. Then, the day after the full, Lily’s mum had passed away suddenly, and she had gone home for the funeral. Distraught over shirking his responsibility, James offered to do it for him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t put it together that Lily must have been filling in for Remus before then. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized,” he said. 

She shrugged, and he wasn't sure what to say next. There was an awkward pause, in which the back of James' mind was screaming, YOU ARE HOLDING LILY EVANS HAND, HOLY FUCK. He shoved that thought forcefully out of his mind. They were actually having a conversation without needing McGonnagall to mediate their bickering. He needed to focus. 

“You figured it out in first year?” he asked. That was pretty impressive, in his opinion. It had taken him and Sirius nearly two full years to sort it out. 

She chuckled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Of course. Remus can’t lie for knuts and I have half a brain.” 

James gave her hand a squeeze, but then withdrew it and placed it deliberately in his lap. She was looking at him again, which, to be fair, was something any normal human being would do while having a conversation. But because it was her, and because he was a little bit of an idiot for her, he couldn’t help feeling pleased about walking face first into a statue, just for the chance for her to look at him like she was now. 

“I know this goes without saying,” he began, “but—“

“Don’t tell anyone?” she finished. “I wouldn’t, and I hope you know that. But I understand your concern.”

“Thanks,” he said. “And thanks for my nose. I dunno what I would’ve done without you.” 

“Probably fainted all over the one eyed witch’s heaving bosom,” Lily deadpanned. 

James looked at her incredulously. “What?” she said. “I might be….well, me. But now that I know you’re ok, I can officially not feel guilty for laughing hysterically whenever I think about James Potter, Quidditch Captain, Rogue Prefect, General Ne'er-Do-Well, walking face first into marble breasts.”

James laughed, torn between amusement and admiration. Encouraged by Lily’s smile, and feeling just a tad reckless he said, “so long as your think about me Evans, I don’t mind the circumstances.” He gave her a rakish wink, and his slyest (silliest) grin. 

Lily tinged pink, rolled her eyes at him and stood. James deflated for just a moment, but then Lily was offering him her hand and half smiling down at him. “Don’t push it, Potter,” she said. “Now come on, we’ve got to finish our rounds.”

James grasped her hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. “Lead the way Evans,” he said dramatically, puffing out his chest and mock saluting her. “I’ll follow you until the very end.”

“Until the end of what?” she asked, bemused. 

“Oh I don’t know,” James said, “at least to the end of this corridor, but longer if you like.”


	6. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is like, vaguely smutty. Sirius confronts Remus a week after the kiss.

_"Moony...please," Sirius whispered. Remus shivered, and leaned forward to brush his lips against Sirius’. When Sirius sighed happily, leaning into the kiss and wrapping his hands more firmly around Remus’ waist, Remus responded earnestly._

_BANG! The dormitory door banged open, and James staggered inside, face covered with dried blood. His eyes were unfocused, and he was swaying unsteadily on his feet. Fortunately, in his disorientation, James did not see Remus, Sirius, or their compromising position. Remus took the moment of confusion to slip away from Sirius, and back into his bed._

_“Jamie?” Sirius said. “Prongs, what the hell happened.”_

_“HOLY FUCK!” James yelled. He staggered over to Sirius, grabbing his face and studying it. “Wait,” James said. “Whoa…whoa…wait. Did you two? Did you?”_

_Remus felt his stomach do a funny somersault. “Did we…” he said cautiously._

_“Did you, you know, kiss and make up, or am I interrupting,” James asked, swaying slightly, still clutching Sirius’ face._

_Remus burst out in a slightly hysterical giggle. The had, well, done exactly that, and James was definitely interrupting._

_“Yeah we made up,” Sirius said slowly, trying to disentangle himself from James’ grip. “Now will you tell us what the hell happened?”_

_“I have a concussion,” James said. “I have a moda—modrt—moderate concussion. And Lily Evans healed my head and we did rounds.”_

_Remus and Sirius exchanged a baffled look. “Wha-“ Remus began, but was interrupted by James fainting._

_After a moment of dumbfounded confusion, Remus helped Sirius lift James onto the bed. Sirius ran to fetch Madam Pomfrey, and Remus lay down next to James. "Fucking holy shitting Merlin's Beard," Remus whispered at James' unconscious form. "What the fuck did I just do Prongs?"_

One Week Later

Remus was sat in the common room, quill poised hopefully over a roll of parchment. It was nearing two in the morning, and he absolutely had to finish this Ancient Runes paper by the morning. If only he could remember literally anything about Ancient Runes, or the topic of the assignment. Something about...triangles? He threw the quill down in frustration and rubbed his eyes, trying to remember the correct usage of all these bloody squiggly symbols. He felt his mind start to drift…

_“Remus, please,” Sirius whispered. Remus shivered, and leaned forward to brush his lips against Sirius’. When Sirius sighed happily, leaning into the kiss and wrapping his hands more firmly around Remus’ waist, Remus responded earnestly._

The dream continued, only a bloody, disoriented James never appeared. Instead, Remus and Sirius were left alone, completely uninterrupted.

_“Remus,” dream Sirius said, smiling up at him. Dream Sirius brushed the fringe away from his forehead, and nuzzled into Remus’ neck. Remus hummed with pleasure, and slid his hands down dream Sirius’ sides. Suddenly, dream Sirius jerked away from Remus, face oddly blank. He gripped Remus firmly by the shoulders and began shaking him, hard._

_“OI MOONY,” dream Sirius shouted. “MOONY, WAKE UP.”_

“Why’re you yelling,” Remus mumbled into his Ancient Runes paper. He turned his head, rolling over a bit of wet ink and staining his cheek. “No yelling, just kissing,” he mumbled.

Remus heard a deep, amused chuckle. The shaking stopped, and was replaced with a pleasantly warm hand on the base of his neck. “Remus, it’s half past two,” the voice said. “You need to go to bed.”

Remus rubbed his face sleepily against the parchment, and sat up, looking around blearily. His eyes focused on dark hair, pale skin, dimples. “Oh fuck,” he said. “Sirius.”

Sirius was sat next to Remus on the sofa, in nothing but his pajama bottoms and the worlds biggest shit eating grin. Remus rubbed his cheek, smearing the wet ink around his face. Confused, he looked at his inky hand and groaned. “That’ll take ages to wash off,” he muttered. 

Sirius smiled at him fondly. "Lemme," he said, and reached out to touch Remus’ cheek. 

Remus flinched away from the touch. Sirius’ hand stilled, his grin lost a bit of it’s confidence. “Moony,” he said. “It’s been a week.”

This was true. It had been a week since Sirius had returned. It had been a week since Remus had impulsively kissed him. It had been a week since they had been interrupted by a disoriented James, and Sirius had to run to fetch Madame Pomfrey. It had been a week since Sirius had returned with Madam Pomfrey, and James had been carted off to the Infirmary. It had been a week since Remus had feigned sleep to avoid talking about his impulsive mistake. It had been a week since Remus had allowed himself to be alone with Sirius. 

“Er,” Sirius said uncomfortably. Remus shook his head a bit, trying to rearrange his face into a less emotive expression. Once he was positive he had assumed a politely blank look, he turned to look at Sirius. Sirius smiled awkwardly at him, but his eyes were full of confused sadness. Remus felt his heart melt a bit, and quickly tried to stamp down his feelings.

“Sorry,” Remus said. He stood up and reached out to shuffle his parchment and books together. “Must’ve dosed off. You can go back up to the dormitory, I just need to—“ 

He felt Sirius reach out to gently touch his elbow. Remus stilled. 

“Remus,” Sirius murmured, pulling Remus back onto the sofa. Remus closed his eyes, and tried to ignore Sirius’ body heat radiating through his pajama bottoms. 

“Remus, look at me,” Sirius said softly. “Please.”

Remus turned his head in Sirius’ direction, but kept his eyes shut. He felt Sirius rest a hand against his face, and his thumb swiped gently at his inky cheek. “You’re not actually looking at me, you know,” Sirius said.

Remus cracked open an eye. Sirius’ face was a respectful distance away, which Remus appreciated, but his hand was still pressed against his cheek. Sirius' grey eyes flicked uncertaintly between Remus’, searching him for an answer. “What’s going on,” Sirius asked. 

Remus considered this question. Sirius had expressed interest in talking about their exchange throughout the past week, but Remus had continually ignored him. He felt it was easier to ignore his slight indiscretion, and call it even. Sirius had betrayed Remus by telling his worst enemy his darkest secret, and Remus had uncomfortably forced himself on Sirius when he tried to apologize. Remus had faced enough rejection, not necessarily romantically, but a myriad of other ways throughout his life. He was trying to save himself the embarrassment of being rejected by one of his best friends, and Sirius the discomfort of having to reject one of his best friends. 

It was Remus’ nature to ignore the unpleasant, but he supposed it had been foolish to assume Sirius would settle for sweeping anything under the table. Sirius was forward, direct and shockingly honest. He clearly needed closure or an apology or…something?

“I just,” Remus began uncomfortably. He shifted in his seat, awkward under Sirius' scrutiny. He felt overheated and itchy from Sirius' touch. He was overwhelmed by Sirius' affection in the best of times, but now, Remus was rendered practically immobile by it. “Could you maybe not touch me right now?”

Sirius looked taken aback, but obliged, resting both hands politely in his lap. Remus sighed in relief, and feeling the tension dissipate a bit from his body. Normally, Remus loved any and all physical affection from his friends, but in light of the particularly terrible conversation he was about to have, any touch felt intrusive and wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Sirius. Sirius’ face was uncharacteristically and agonizingly neutral. Remus wasn’t entirely sure what else he was supposed to say. “Er…”

“Sorry. You're sorry,” Sirius said, eyebrow raised slightly. “What’re you sorry for?”

Remus bowed his head, eyes focusing on a tea stain on one of the faded scarlet cushions. “Er…” he said. “Well you were apologizing and I sort of…well that is to say that I, er. I…I…er…well I—“

“Kissed me.” 

Remus felt his cheeks warm and he focused even more intensely on the tea stain. He was absolutely and completely frozen, paralyzed by his anticipated rejection. He waited for the "I'm not queer" or "I don't think about you in that way" or "Who could ever want to kiss a werewolf". But it never came. 

“So.” Sirius continued. “Why are you sorry? Did you not…want? To kiss me?” Sirius voice faltered a bit, and Remus’ eyes flickered briefly to his face. He was distraught to see that Sirius looked, well, as conflicted and confused as Remus felt. There was a long, painful pause. 

“No,” Remus said finally. Sirius' face softened a bit. “No, I wanted to.”

“You wanted to,” Sirius repeated. Remus raised his eyebrows, and Sirius half-smiled. “Sorry,” he said. “You just…haven’t been particularly clear. About. That bit.”

“Why would I have done it, if I hadn’t wanted to?” Remus asked, dumbfounded. He had bodily cornered Sirius against the wall, he had initiated the kiss, hadn’t he? What possible motive would he have to kiss Sirius, other than wanting to snog him senseless?

“Well I don’t know!” Sirius threw his hands up in frustration. “I did this terrible, this horrible, this shitty thing—“

“But I forgave you!” Remus said forcefully. 

“Have you?” Sirius shot back, eyebrows raised, hands gesticulating wildly. “Because for the past week you’ve been treating me like…like…” 

“I just…I didn’t know if,” Remus said quietly, but his interjection was drowned out by Sirius.

“And I mean, I know? Ok, I know. I’m not exactly subtle, and I always sort of assumed you knew and just never brought it up because well, that’s you, isn’t it? Don’t acknowledge it and it goes away. So I just followed your lead, because despite my recent actions I actually do care about you not hating me,” Sirius trailed off, chest heaving. Remus, unfortunately, had no idea what he was talking about.

“I don’t—“ Remus began, but was interrupted again by Sirius’ tirade. 

“And I was so pathetic, begging you like a kicked puppy. Then you go, and you kiss me, which, hasn’t actually happened before, if you hadn’t noticed. And I mean, I know I don't have a ton of experience in this area, but in my humble virgin opinion it was a bloody fucking spectacular kiss until Prongs staggered in looking like a bludger got him. And so I thought, maybe. You felt something too. But then the past week! It’s like you did it out of pity or to have me shut up or,” Sirius trailed off again, eyes wild, vibrating with chaotic energy. Remus’ brain, fortunately, had only really managed to retain one detail of Sirius’ shouting.

“Felt something…too?” Remus said. 

Sirius scoffed, and looked at him like he had sprouted an extra arm out the top of his head. “Right,” Sirius said dismissively. “Right, like you didn’t know.”

“But I DON’T know?” Remus said loudly. “You’ve been shouting at me for the past five minutes, and honestly. I’m sorry, alright? Kissing you was…probably not the right way to go about things. It was a mistake, alright? I wasn't...I wasn't thinking."

"The right way to go about WHAT?" Sirius shouted, eyes blazing. "How can it be a mistake if you can't even tell me what you were trying to do! With that dumb fucking amazing kiss...with you're stupid...lips."

"The right way to go about...you know!" Remus gestured helplessly between himself and Sirius. He silently cursed himself, he was usually loquacious to a fault and the one time he really needed to be able to express himself, words failed him. Attempting to express his feelings to Sirius apparently transcended words or thought or reason.

Sirius was glaring at him, breathing hard. “What are you saying,” Sirius demanded angrily.

“What are YOU saying,” Remus repeated. 

Sirius’ eyes were practically boring into Remus, filled with a passionate frustration. Remus tried to maintain his gaze with equal intensity, but when Sirius absentmindedly licked his lower lip, Remus’ eyes flickered down for just a second too long. 

There was a short, tense moment. They had shifted positions over the course of their argument; Sirius had unconsciously been moving steadily closer, and Remus, desperate to keep space between them, had been forced awkwardly up against the arm of the sofa. Sirius was practically in his lap, head tilted up, glaring angrily at Remus. Sirius' body language seemed like an invitation, and Remus was struggling against his conflicting desire to beat Sirius senseless for being so infuriating or (more preferably) push him down onto the sofa and snog him into oblivion. 

But Remus forced himself to wait. He had made himself as clear as he was capable of doing (which is to say, not clear at all). But their argument was beyond words at this point, Sirius was invading his personal space, and Remus had never been able to tolerate any kind of confinement. So he leaned forward, until their faces were less than an inch apart, and let out a low, warning growl. 

Remus knew he was practically daring Sirius to punch him or kiss him. Instead, Sirius was staring up at him with wide, captivated eyes. In a wave of understanding, Remus knew that Sirius, his wonderful, fearless, impulsive friend, was afraid. And not in the "a fully grown werewolf just growled at me" way. Sirius was afraid in an intensely vulnerable way, in a way that made Remus love him even more. 

“Pads,” Remus whispered, placing his hand gently on Sirius’ neck and leaning forward to rest his forehead against Sirius’. Sirius drew a sharp breath, and Remus thread his fingers through his hair soothingly. Sirius leaned into the touch, eyes closing slightly, a desperate groan escaping his lips. 

“Moony,” Sirius said softly. “Please.”

Remus pressed his mouth hotly to Sirius’, kissing him deeply. Sirius practically melted into him, letting out another soft groan and wrapping his arms tentatively around Remus’ shoulders. Remus, desperate to make his feelings known in the only way he knew how, pulled Sirius into his lap. Sirius hesitated for just a moment, before throwing a leg over Remus' lap and straddling him, placing both hands on Remus' shoulders. Remus rolled his hips up in a slow, deliberate motion, and Sirius shuddered against him, letting out a soft moan. Remus knew he was probably moments away from...well. Crossing a fairly definitive line with one of his best friends. And as desperately as he wanted that, first he needed to tell Sirius the whole truth about his feelings. 

He brushed a strand of Sirius' hair away from his face. “Pads.”

“Mmmmm” Sirius hummed, eyes still closed, arms still wrapped loosely around Remus’ shoulders. 

“If we’re gonna do this,” Remus said softly, combing his fingers lightly through Sirius’ hair. “It’s just. I fancy you. Quite a lot.”

“Mmmmm” Sirius hummed again. “Fancied you for ages Moons. Ages and ages.”

Sirius gazed down at him, looking absolutely wrecked, lips kiss-swollen, cheeks pink. "I want you," Remus said softly. Sirius shivered, smiling shyly at him. "Just...just you. If that's alright."

"You've got me," Sirius said. "You always have."

Remus smiled, a perfect happy smile. He reached up to kiss Sirius again, happier than he had been in a long time.

This time, James didn't interrupt them. They may have frightened an unsuspecting house elf or two, but that's another story.


	7. A Couple Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> end of sixth year, Lily gets a wedding invitation

The Great Hall was filled with the noisy chatter of the End of Year Feast. Hufflepuff had won the House Cup, and the hall was festively decorated in yellow and black banners. Lily looked around at the smiling faces that surrounded her and let a happy, content feeling wash over her. 

The sixth and seventh years were all clustered together, intermixing at the different house tables. Emmeline and Mary had come over from the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables to heckle James and Sirius about the most recent match against Ravenclaw. They were all commiserating in a sense of nostalgia brought on by the knowledge that they would not all be returning next September. 

Remus and Sirius were sat next to each other, holding hands covertly under the table. James had an arm slung around Peter and was regaling a large group of Gryffindor’s with the story of Sirius’ first ever Quidditch game as seeker.

“And can you believe it, I mean, the man has two perfectly functioning arms,” James gestured morosely to his still bandaged right arm. “The lucky bastard.” 

“Stop being so self-sacrificing, Potter,” Mary called down the table, tossing her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “It’s not becoming of a lady.”

James flipped Mary a clumsy V with his good hand and sighed dramatically. “Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a certain ungrateful chaser….two good arms, obviously easy catch, I mean honestly Minnie could have done it without her glasses on. No, but Sirius goes and catches the bloody snitch in his mouth like the mangy mutt he is.”

“Ta, Prongs,” Sirius said loudly, grinning wickedly. “If I recall correctly, I did win us that game. And I haven’t heard any complaints from the snitch, nor, might I add, anybody else, about my oral attentions.”

Remus tinged pink at the ears and shoved a large forkful of potato in his mouth. Lily caught his eye and smirked, wiggling her shoulders suggestively. Remus rolled his eyes at her and shrugged, and she huffed out a little laugh. 

The rest of the group was too busy heckling Sirius to notice Lily and Remus’ exchange. “Right,” Emmeline said. “And who exactly do you claim to have snogged apart from inanimate objects and your own reflection?”

“That, my dear, is a secret not even a niffler could sniff out,” Sirius replied, winking raucously. 

Lily, who knew exactly who Sirius had been snogging and had little interest in his pseudo mystery, was distracted by the arrival of a small tawny owl. The owl soared down towards her, plopped a rather large envelope in front of her, and flew off. Lily picked up the envelope and read the front:

_Ms. Lily Evans  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Scotland, Probably_

Lily immediately recognized her dad’s hasty scrawl, and snorted over his attempt at addressing the letter. She tore open the envelope and three pieces of paper fell out, a note from her dad, a letter from her sister and a lacy white invitation. Curiosity getting the better of her, she opened the invitation first. 

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of:_

_Petunia June Evans_

_and_

_Vernon Walter Dursley_

_Saturday, July 11th_

_6 o’clock in the evening_

_St. Jude’s Church, Surrey_

 

Lily rolled her eyes; the wedding itself was not a surprise, but the date was. She shoved the invitation aside, and picked up the note from her dad.

_Lilypads,_

_Sorry to spring the news on you like this. I’m sending you this in May, but I have no bloody idea how to send it properly. Knowing me it’ll probably turn up the day after you’ve left for home._

_Petunia seems happy with Vernon, and considering everything that’s happened the past year, who am I to deny her that happiness? I know we both share similar sentiments regarding Vernon, but in the end it’s your sister’s decision._

_Petunia would like to ask you to be a bridesmaid. She remembers how important it was to your mum, and she’s trying to honor that._

_Love you, pick you up from the train. I can’t wait to see you, Lily love._

_Dad_

Lily smiled, running a finger over “Lily love” and thinking of her dad. She placed his note carefully to the side and picked up the letter from her sister. The first thing she noticed was the impeccable penmanship that Petunia had agonized over when they were children. The second thing she noticed was that it was an incredibly short letter.

_Dear Lily,_

_Vernon and I are to be married Saturday, July 11th. Mother wanted you to be a bridesmaid. I plan on honoring that wish, assuming you are capable of containing your freakish abnormality for one night. You are required to bring a date. Try to do better than that awful spotty boy you brought home last summer, if that’s even possible. There’s no need to write back._

_Sincerely,  
Petunia_

Lily clutched the fancy stationary fiercely in a shaking fist by the time she was finished reading Petunia’s letter. Things between her and Petunia had never exactly settled after she had gone to Hogwarts, but ever since their mother had died last year, it was like Petunia’s hate had grown into an insurmountable loathing of the highest order. 

“Lily?” Mary asked quietly. “Are you alright?”

Lily shook her head, feeling overheated and overcrowded. The chatter of the hall seemed to have intensified to a painful roar of unintelligible babble. Lily stood up abruptly, still clutching the letter. She could feel the attention of her friends refocus on her, and she had a split second to decide whether to stay and head their prying questions, or flee and find a quiet place to collect her thoughts. 

“Sorry,” she said softly. “Sorry, I just have to…”

She spun on her heel and walked swiftly out of the Great Hall. Mary would see the invitation she had left behind and put it together, which was enough to ensure that Lily would be left alone until she was ready to seek out company. Right now, she thought vaguely, she needed to find a nice secluded place to collect her thoughts. 

—

Lily was six, and Petunia was ten. 

“Why can’t I hold the flowers,” Lily whined. They were out in the garden, picking out a few spring blooms for their fathers birthday. 

Petunia clutched the small bouquet possessively. “Because,” she said bossily. “Mummy said we could only pick one bouquet. You always do strange things to flowers.”

Lily pouted. It wasn’t her fault, half the time she didn’t even know how she made the flowers move. “Fine,” she said defiantly. She crossed her arms petulantly and turned away from Petunia. 

Petunia took a moment, clearly torn between doing what she wanted and doing what would make her sister happy. “You can hold a few,” she relented finally, handing over a few daisies. Lily immediately brightened, beaming happily at her sister.

“I know you don’t mean to do it,” Petunia said. She patted her sisters head sympathetically. “We’ll figure out a way to make it stop.”

Lily’s smile faltered slightly. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to make it stop. 

Lily was ten and Petunia was fourteen. 

“And he said that I get my own magic wand, and get to learn loads about magical plants and animals and—“ 

“I don’t care,” Petunia said cooly. 

“But—“

“I said,” Petunia repeated, “I don’t want to hear about it.”

Lily recoiled slightly, unused to Petunia’s biting tone. “Tuney,” she said softly. “It’s not my fault, I just—“

“It never is, is it?” Petunia snapped, “just go away.”

Lily was sixteen and Petunia was twenty. 

Lily knocked hesitantly on her sisters door. Petunia didn’t answer. Lily opened the door anyway.

“Tuney.”

“Don’t call me that,” Petunia snapped. “Get out.”

“Petunia we should really—“

“Get. Out.”

Lily stared at the back of her sisters head for a long moment. She sighed, and went to leave the room. “I'm sad too, you know. Because you didn't ask, and you don't seem to care." Silence. "I don’t know why you hate me so much."

“You left.” Petunia said.

“What?”

“You left,” Petunia repeated. “As soon as you could.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Lily said, confused. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Maybe. But that’s how it felt.” Petunia turned to look at Lily, blue eyes filled with unshed tears. “We're the ones who don't have a choice.”

Lily was seventeen and Petunia was twenty-one. Lily would never know what she did to make her sister hate her, and Petunia would never admit the true reason, not even to herself. 

—

 

Lily was sat on the edge of the lake, clutching the letter in one fist. Her eyes were focused on a lone leaf, that was floating whimsically across the lake. 

“Evans?” 

Lily shut her eyes firmly, willing herself to be calm, cool, aloof. She opened her eyes, found her leaf, and smoothed her skirt with her free hand. “Potter,” she said.

He plopped down next to her on the lawn. A puff of air blew over her, a mix of sweet smelling grass and something…distinctly James, and not entirely repulsive. Lily noted absent-mindedly that James didn’t have his shoes on, and was soaking both bare feet in the freezing cold water. She knew he was probably expecting her to say something; she found it vaguely endearing that he had the tendency to follow her lead in conversation. Usually, though she hardly admitted it to herself, she was more than happy to oblige with a constant conversational flow of teasing, banter and definitely not flirting. But not tonight. 

“Er. You alright?” James asked. 

Lily clutched the stationary a bit tighter. “Yeah,” she said vacantly. “Yeah, just grand.”

Lily could feel him studying her. Usually, this would annoy and not-so-secretly please her. But not tonight. “You, er, sure? About that? You seem rather…” James pressed, his voice thick with concern. “And it looks like you’re ruining your fancy parchment,” he gestured helplessly to the ruined stationary.

Lily didn’t respond. Instead, she followed the course of her leaf, moving slowly, artfully, across the lake. She suspected James would leave, interpreting her silence as a dismissal. Unfortunately, James behaved in the exact opposite way she expected.

He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, and Lily felt her entire body freeze up. This was, historically speaking, a first. Typically, James touching caused her to react immediately, and rather violently, with a slap or clever hex. As it were, Lily found herself completely paralyzed by a damn hand on her damn shoulder.

“Lily,” James said. “You’re freaking me out a bit.”

“Oh,” she said, loudly. His hand was still on her shoulder. “Oh, am I?”

“Well,” James said uncertainly. “Er…yes?”

“You want to know what THIS is?” she yelled, shoving the paper forcefully in his face. She ripped her eyes away from her leaf, for the first time in over an hour, to fix James with a furious stare. 

James looked taken aback, even with half a piece of fancy Harrod’s wedding stationary shoved up his nostril. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly, shoving her hand away and leaning back slightly. “But it’s nearing midnight and you’ve been sitting but the lake since dinner.”

Lily blinked. How had she not realized it had gone dark? James was looking down at her, eyes filled with concern. It was annoying, Lily thought, that she didn’t find him annoying. 

“It’s past curfew,” she said. James nodded slowly. “What are you doing out of bounds after curfew?”James laughed, a big, full belly laugh. Lily looked at him incredulously. James Potter did not laugh at Lily Evans, unless it was in a silly, flirtatious way. “What,” she demanded.

James wiped a tear of amusement away from his eye. “Oh, sorry, no it’s nothing. You’re just a bit adorable aren’t you? I tell you you’ve been sitting by yourself, in the dark, for nearly six hours and the first thing you think to do is yell at me for being out of bounds. It’s just. You’re definitely one of a kind, Evans,” James said. He was grinning down at her, eyes filled with affection and amusement. 

“Oh,” Lily said stupidly. “Well…I’m a bit out of sorts. But I suppose you’ve already put that bit together.”

“That I have,” James responded. “As has Remus. And Mary. You missed rounds.”

Lily attempted to scramble to her feet, splattering muddy water everywhere. “Rounds!”

James grabbed her hand, pulling her down gently. “Don’t worry Evans,” James said soothingly. She sank back down next to him, and to her immense surprise, she found herself leaning into him a bit. “I covered you.”

“You…did what?” 

“Well, Remus said something had happened at dinner, and you had run out in a state.” 

Lily nodded, realizing what had happened as James told her. “Remus figured you…well you know. You’ve helped him, and he wanted to do the same. So he asked me to step in, seeing as I already sort of unofficially…”

Lily turned to study James for a moment, peering up at him. He looked down at her, smiling slightly, and a bemused expression crossed his face. It was at this precise moment that they both realized they were still holding hands, and Lily hastily withdrew hers. She turned away, her cheeks warm. “Thanks,” she said. 

James cleared his throat, and shook his head slightly, like he was trying to dislodge a bit of trapped water from his ear. “Yeah,” he said, in a very far off voice. “No problem.”

They sat together for a few minutes in companionable silence. Lily was always so surprised at how natural it felt to sit with James, how easy it was to get caught up in his easy smiles, and quick affections. She chanced a quick glance at him, and was struck at how peaceful he looked. The moon caught his profile, highlighting his strong jaw and illuminating his bright hazel eyes. He looked beautiful, strong and handsome and just a little bit mischievous. She wondered what the hell was happening to her. 

James finally broke the peaceful silence. “So,” he said quietly. “As nice as this is, I did promise Mary I’d bring you back if I found you, so we should probably—“

“My sister’s getting married,” Lily interrupted. She opened her fist, revealing the letter. “My dad sent me this, and an invitation. She says that she didn’t really want me there, but if I had to be, I had to leave all my “freakery” at school.”

Lily’s herself wishing James would hold her hand again. But all he did was mutter a quiet “oh” and sit patiently, hands to himself, waiting for Lily to continue.

She stared blankly ahead, mind filled with Vernon Dursley's pudgy, angry face. “The man she’s marrying is awful. He hates everything. Especially me. Thinks I'm some sort of abnormal degenerate poisoning society with alternative thinking.”

Lily shook her head forcefully, trying to expel her anger and frustration. “And the worst part, the absolute buggering worst part of it all, is that she expects me to bring a date.”

She turned to look at James, who was looking at her curiously. “What,” she demanded. “What.”

“It’s just…I mean, it’s you, innit?” he said. “You could ask anyone in our year and they’d go with you. You know Remus—“

“It’s on the full.”

“Oh,” he responded, nodding vaguely. “But still—“

“Peter’s abroad, Frank and Alice are on their honeymoon. Caradoc and Kingsley are finishing training. Marlene offered, and so did Dorcas, but if Vernon is so disgusted by wizardry, what's he going to say if I showed up with a girl. And I definitely do not trust Marlene to keep her wand to herself if he says anything even remotely homophobic and—“

“Whoa,” James said. “Evans slow down.”

Lily took a couple gulps of air. “Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s stupid. It’s just. I dunno. She’s been so horrible to me. And she made such a big deal out of me not being able to find a date, going on about how not even the freaks at my school could tolerate me.”

“Well your sister sounds like a right bint,” James said forcefully. Lily stared at him.

“Sorry,” he said, “that was rude. I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s alright,” Lily said, waving him off. Nothing James could say could be even half as bad as what she had already thought about Petunia.

“No it’s not,” James said seriously. “You’re clearly upset and I shouldn’t have…shouldn’t have. Well. Shouted. Or been rude about your sister. I apologize.”

Lily looked at him appraisingly. “It’s not the first time you’ve shouted at me” she said. “Nor, I suspect, the last.”

“No,” James agreed. “But I’ve been trying. To be…less horrible to you.”

Lily was struck by his sincerity, his honesty. James Potter was many things— charming, popular, clever. But sincere was something Lily was beginning to see in him more and more. 

"I know it's cheesy and doesn't actually do anything to help. But. If I could do something, anything, to make you feel a bit better, well. I would.”

An absolutely insane idea floated through Lily’s mind. She tried to squash it down, but she couldn’t deny how much sense it made. Plus…well, maybe she just wanted to. Just a tiny bit.

“Hey,” she said abruptly, turning on him. 

“Hey?”

“Hey,” she repeated. “You’re not a girl or an overly aggressive fake bunny.”

“Er,” James said doubtfully. “Well I was the last time I checked at least.”

"Yeah, you weren't the last time I checked either."

"What...what exactly does that mean?" James asked, confused.

“No, shut up, alright? Just. Just shut up. Look you’re a boy. And I know it’s the full. But d’you think…d’you think that maybe?” Lily looked up into his eyes imploringly. She tried to communicate her question telepathically and failed spectacularly. 

James looked down at her, eyes wide, completely dumbfounded. He looked completely and totally absorbed in just staring at her, which made Lily want to scream at him. For someone annoyingly observant, James Potter could be impossibly slow. Lily sighed, and resigned herself to actually forcing the words out.

“D’you think you could go with me?” she asked. James' eyes glazed over slightly, and he looked like he had been hit in the head with a buldger. Hard.

“You’re…joking,” he said softly. 

“I’m not,” she responded. “Will you? Go? You know just as friends. Or at least, vague friendly acquaintances?”

“Did Sirius put you up to this?” James asked. He looked around dumbly for a moment, as if Sirius were going to pop out from behind a bush and yell "gotcha!"

Lily sighed, loudly. “Look forget it, I’ll just ask—“

“No!” James said forcefully. “Sorry, not yelling. I’m not yelling, I promise. Of course I’ll go with you Evans, Merlin’s Beard. You've gone from cheerfully hexing me into oblivion, to being somewhat friendly. Give a man a minute to adjust.”

Lily chuckled, and nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “Thanks. I like being somewhat friendly to you. You're much more tolerable, recently. Actual decent company, if you can believe it." Lily beamed at him, forgetting herself for a moment.

James blushed, and Lily pretended that the sight of his rosy cheeks and silly grin didn’t give her butterflies. “I do what I can, Evans,” James said with a wink, “I do what I can.”


End file.
